Echo
by Dom the Fantabulous
Summary: When Roger of Conte returns from the dead a second time, with the help of his ex-lover's older sister, it is up to Alanna to defeat him once again. The fate of Tortall rests in her hands, in her ability to find the Amulet of Echoes, the only tool that can
1. Default Chapter

Alanna of Treebond and Olau, and now Pirate's Swoop, sat up straight in bed, a cold sweat breaking out all over her body. Wiping her brow, she waited for her breathing to return to normal and her pulse to slow; her heart was beating like that of a scared rabbit. In the Chamber of the Ordeal when she'd earned her shield over three years ago was one of the most frightening experiences Alanna had dealt with- it still haunted her dreams. Roger of Conte haunted her dreams.  
  
Nightmares, from which she would wake up screaming, wouldn't leave her be; she hadn't gotten a good night's sleep in over a week. The effects were beginning to show. Dark circles appeared under her violet eyes, her normally tan skin looked somewhat sallow, she was even too tired to have much of a temper.  
  
George was worried about her, she knew, she'd caught him once or twice watching her closely, then looking away quickly when she noticed. Seven times in the past three days he'd asked if she was feeling okay.  
  
Alanna glanced down at her husband, slumbering peacefully. It would be hours before the sun rose. Moving softly, so as not to disturb the man beside her, she stood, placing bare feet on the stone floor. Yelping softly at the cold, she shivered, padding across the room slowly to a small washstand in the corner. She splashed her face, blinking several times. Glancing up, she caught a look of her reflection in the mirror, surprised by what she saw.  
  
Alanna barely recognized the figure that stared back at her; she looked as if she'd lost several pounds. Her normally vibrant eyes seemed dull, only a flicker of the fire that once burned brightly in her violet eyes remained.  
  
"Goddess bless..." She murmured, reaching to touch her reflection with her fingertips, disbelieving. "Is that really me?"  
  
She stared at the mirror, as if truly expecting it to answer. It didn't.  
  
"Talking to yourself is a sign of insanity." A voice murmured sleepily from the bed, causing Alanna to jump. "Come to bed, lass." Propping himself up on his elbow, a rather grumpy George Cooper watched her from across the dark room, rubbing his eyes.  
  
A weary smile crossed Alanna's lips.  
  
"I thought you were asleep."  
  
"Aye, I was, until you got up and took away the warmth." A bit of a pout played on his lips and he held his arms out to her. "Come back to bed, my love. I can't hold you when you're all the way over there."  
  
With a small sigh the redhead climbed back into bed, her husband's arms enveloping her immediately.  
  
"Mm... you can't go running away and leaving me cold." George murmured softly, his voice warm against her ear. It was obvious he was still half asleep. "Now why don't you tell me what it is that's been botherin' you, lass? You haven't had a good sleep in a week, and it's beginning to worry me. You haven't even exploded in the past four days. Are ye feeling a mite ill?"  
  
"No..." she replied truthfully. She wasn't ill, or, not really; a bit tired with a loss of appetite, but not ill. "I'm... fine." Less truthful, but not exactly a flat out lie.  
  
George raised an eyebrow in disbelief, kissing the top of her head.  
  
"you don't seem fine..." the two had married for over two years, and Alanna never *had* been a good liar.  
  
She sighed, a bit reluctant to tell him. She felt more than a bit silly that these nightmares were beginning to control her life, as a knight and champion of Tortall, she ought not be plagued by such trivial fears.  
  
"Lass..." George murmured softly into her hair. "What's been bothering you? Are... are you... unhappy with us?" He voiced the question that had obviously been worrying him for sometime, obviously afraid the answer might be yes.  
  
"Oh, no, it's not that!" Alanna said hurriedly, snuggling closer to George under the coverlet to reassure him. "I promise. It's nothing like that at all. It's just... well, it's silly, really. Not important."  
  
The man beside her let out a breath of relief that he hadn't realized he was holding, and Alanna felt like a monster for worrying him.  
  
"Tell me what's troubling you, my love." He kissed her cheek, playing idly with her hair.  
  
"Promise you won't laugh." She commanded, rolling over to face him.  
  
"On my newly received honor." A glint of teasing played in his eyes, and Alanna giggled, giving him a light punch in the arm.  
  
"Alright, alright!" he yelped, hugging her around the waist, pinning her arms at the same time. She wouldn't be hitting him again if he could help it.  
  
She laughed, laying her head on his chest.  
  
"Well..."  
  
"Yes?" He urged when she stopped, poking her in the ribs.  
  
"It's nothing." She finished lamely.  
  
"Oh, come on now..."  
  
Grumbling, Alanna mumbled something about busybodies.  
  
"Busybody or no, I can tell when something's bothering ye, lass. Now either you'll tell me or I'll hang you out the window by your heels..." George tweaked her nose.  
  
With a sigh, she ran a hand through her hair.  
  
"I've been having these strange dreams..." she whispered finally, waiting for her husband to laugh. When he didn't, she continued.  
  
"About Duke Roger..."  
  
George kissed her forehead, brushing a strand of copper hair away from her face as he waited for her to continue. "I... I mean, I know he's dead. Twice. But... something keeps worrying me. Last time I was having these dreams..." she trailed off, allowing the idea to settle. Last time she'd had dreams like this something horrible had happened, Roger of Conte was raised from the dead by her twin.  
  
Squeezing her gently, George cleared his throat.  
  
"Well, there's naught we can do tonight. We'll talk about it in the morning, I promise. Now get some sleep, and wake me up if your nightmares bother you again... I'll protect you." He gave her a small smile, watching her as she consented, laying her head on his chest and closing her eyes. Sleep wasn't long in coming, and soon after she, George fell into his own slumber. 


	2. Chapter Two

Lady Sandrine of Snow's Hill as quite a force to be reckoned with when she chose to be. At 28, she was still fairly young, and quite beautiful to look at. Dark hair tumbled down in ringlets set carefully atop her head in a silver hair ornament shaped as a swan. A swan, that would describe the woman's appearance perfectly; she was the very picture of beauty and grace in a gown of the finest blue velvet money could buy. Her dress was trimmed with pearls and her pearl earbobs matched the ensemble; from head to toe this woman's outfit screamed wealth. Nary a person could tell her for what she really was- a serpent.  
  
Half-sister to Delia of Eldorne, Sandrine was as dangerous as she was beautiful. She resembled her sister only slightly, they shared the same tiny upturned nose and soft mouth, a blessing of which she was thankful. It would make revenge so much easier if she wasn't recognized. King Jonathon and his precious Thayet would regret ruining her sister's life; she'd make sure of that. True, he did waive the death sentence, but by stripping her sister and her family of all of their titles and riches and throwing them to the streets, he forced her sister to do the only thing she knew to do. Delia had taken her life before she could be imprisoned; Sandrine knew she would have done the same.  
  
King Jonathon had shamed her family and destroyed their name in Tortall, and Sandrine was livid. Nevermind the fact that she had married at fifteen and never spoke with her family after she'd left Eldorne. Most didn't even know that her family even had another daughter, before her sister's death, Monique of Eldorne never enjoyed banquets or social events... but she was no longer Monique of Eldorne, she was now Sandrine of Snow's Hill, a twenty- eight year old widow. That part of it was true, anyway.  
  
A beautiful smile crossed Sandrine's face, a smile that didn't quite reach her cold blue eyes. In her hand was a yellowing piece of parchment wrinkled and ripped at the edges from frequent handling- her sister's suicide letter, and the key to her revenge.  
  
AN: mmkay, I forgot a disclaimer in my last chapter, so ... I own none of it. Well, except Sandrine, but she's only a puppet to carry out the story. You'll see a bit of her, but not too much, as I try to stick to Canon as often as possible. Urm... sorry this chapter is so short; the letter will be the next chapter. 


	3. Chapter Three

AN: Okie, this is the letter Sandrine was reading in the last chapter, will explain a lot. Toodlies! *Domthefantabulous*  
  
My Dearest Sister, It is of utmost importance that you do as I ask of you. If you are my sister, you will, as this is my last request. My dearest Roger is not dead, as that silly king and his champion believe. He went to great pains to achieve immortality, and nearly accomplished it. For now, what he has achieved will suffice. My Roger is the cleverest of men; he cast upon himself a spell so powerful it cannot be undone my any mortal hand, neither by means of magic nor by any weapon. The spell was chancy, Roger knew as well, if not better, than I. It protected him from death, causing him to fall into a dreamless sleep, a sort of hibernation for the human body. The heart stops and breathing ceases, leaving the body in a state so like death that even the most talented of mages could not tell the difference. His body was transported by a magical fire into another realm.  
Follow my instructions carefully, dear sister. On the stroke of midnight on the night of Midwinter's eve, you must enter the temple of the Trickster God. Kneel before his altar, offer him a gift. Light incense on the altar; keep vigil in the temple until dawn. When the sun rises, you must utter the words  
"Noro Alto Tiens, Roger, Noro Alto Tiens."  
My lord will rise, stronger than before. He will need a place to stay, I expect you will figure something out, you always were clever. You must meet him on the outskirts of town a fortnight after Midwinter. Follow these instructions exactly, it is of dire importance.  
All my Love,  
Delia 


	4. Chapter Four

AN: Alrighty... I know this isn't great. Please, be kind with your reviews. I apologize beforehand if anyone is OOC. This *Is* my first Tortall fic ever. -Domthefantabulous  
  
Alanna smiled softly to herself, violet eyes glancing around at the bustling streets of Corus. The town was in a frenzy, it seemed everyone was making last minute arrangements for Midwinter feasts and buying gifts for loved ones. Shops were incredibly busy, no surprise for this time of year. Grinning over at George, she brushed her copper locks out of her eyes.  
  
"I'm not sure I can explain it, but I missed this place..."  
  
From the look on his face she knew the feeling was mutual. They were returning to the palace for the Midwinter celebration, and both welcomed the change of scenery.  
  
A drift of snow had fallen recently, blanketing the city in white. Children played in the streets, calling to each other and tossing snowballs, hiding behind snow forts and making snow men. The Midwinter Spirit was apparent everywhere, from the smiling, laughing people, to the mistletoe hanging from doorways. Alanna smiled again, leading her horse by the reins. She was too anxious to remain atop Moonlight; she had too much energy to burn. Running a hand through her red hair, she giggled softly as a snowball flew in their direction, even the cold couldn't put her in a bad mood. Bundled in layers of warm clothing, nothing was going to put a damper on her spirits; it was a much needed improvement over the last few weeks. With an impish grin, Alanna bent to grab a handful of snow, unbeknownst to poor Mr. Cooper.  
  
"We made better time than we expected." George remarked, still unawares of the dangerous situation.  
  
Without responding, the redhead let the snow fly, emitting a rather girlish giggle. It wasn't often she acted so silly, the weather and the thought of returning to the home she had spent over eight years in had her in quite a strange mood.  
  
"I thou—oomph." George stopped midsentence as the snowball pelted him in the back. A mischievous glint lit itself in his eye as he dismounted. "Ye shouldn't have done that, lass... now I'll have to return the favor."  
  
As he stooped to form a snowball, Alanna didn't give him a chance before pelting him with another of her own.  
  
"Play nice, lass..."  
  
"Or what?" she challenged  
  
"Or you'll be sorry." George replied, taking a few steps closer.  
  
"Oh?" she took a step back, just for safety measures, a grin on her face. "And I suppose you plan to do something about it, Mr. Cooper?"  
  
"In fact, Mrs. Cooper, I do." The words were barely out of his mouth when he lunged forward, catching the lioness off guard. The two tumbled to the ground, rolling in the snow, as their horses looked on. Moonlight let out a snort, stopping so as not to step on her mistress. If horses could talk, this one would have been making comments about the silly mood snow put humans in.  
  
Alanna let out a surprised cry as she fell to the ground, landing with a thunk in the snow.  
  
"Not fair."  
  
"Completely fair, my dear." George responded, leaning down to kiss her cheek. "Now apologize for bombing me with snow."  
  
"I will not." She responded fervently. "Now let me up."  
  
"I will not." He grinned cheekily. "Apologize, dear heart, so we can be on our way."  
  
"I'm sorry that you're too slow to dodge a snowball."  
  
George raised an eyebrow. "Is it safe to assume I'm not going to get a willing apology out of ye, lass?"  
  
"I believe it's safe to assume that, yes, Mr. Cooper." Alanna laughed.  
  
He tweaked her nose. "Don't make me tickle you for being cheeky."  
  
"I'm not ticklish." came her sniffy response.  
  
"We'll see..." eyes dancing with laughter, he began to tickle her on the only spot he knew it would work, her sides. Alanna wriggled, laughing and trying to pull away.  
  
"Stop stop stop! Not fair... stop!"  
  
"Apologize."  
  
"No... I won't. Quit! Stop stop...please..."  
  
"As soon as ye apologize, love." He was clearly enjoying this from his grin.  
  
"Fine, fine... I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"  
  
"That's more like it." He laughed, kissing her forehead before standing and offering her his arm.  
  
Gratefully, she took it, standing.  
  
"That wasn't fair, you know."  
  
"Of course." He gave her a cheeky grin. "You of all people should know I don't always play fair."  
  
Reaching over to dust some snow out of her hair, he smiled. Taking his horse's reins in one hand, he wordlessly reached for Alanna's with the other. She smiled, taking his hand as she grabbed her horse's reins. The strolled the rest of the way to the castle that way, hand in hand, leading their horses. 


End file.
